


Calligraphy

by chibinocho



Category: The Watchmaker of Filigree Street - Natasha Pulley
Genre: Body Calligraphy, Fluff, Handwriting, Japanese Culture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibinocho/pseuds/chibinocho
Summary: Keita Mori has beautiful handwriting. Of course being bought up in a samurai family means he was taught calligraphy. He is happy to demonstrate this skill to Thaniel
Relationships: Keita Mori/Thaniel Steepleton
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Calligraphy

**Author's Note:**

> In lockdown and bored with work so this ended up flowing from the pen. 
> 
> For those who aren't strong on Japanese, "Renai （恋愛）" is written with the kanji characters of both "koi" and "ai." and this word means, "romantic love."
> 
> I am loving these domestic scenes between these two - I usually write explicit so it's been a nice challenge to hint at the more sexual stuff.

Thaniel was supposed to be reading over the latest score from Sullivan. It had arrived wrapped tightly in multiple layers of brown paper and string, carried by one of the small theatre urchins Sullivan often employed to run his errands for him with a tightly folded piece of paper tucked in the mess of knots. The note had simply read ‘let me know what you think’ with a flourished and heavily-smudged inky signature. Thaniel took the haphazard writing and signiature to mean that he should look over it right away and sat down at the wooden table that on one side served as Mori’s workspace and the other Thaniel had adopted as his Mori-Observation space.

He held the ink pen in his hand with the best intentions, letting his eyes pass over the lines of music notation. He had even hummed a couple of sections in a half-hearted manner. However his gaze was almost entirely focused on the sight of Mori doing his accounts. Lit by the flickering light of the lightbulbs, the man appeared to be deep in thought, his own pen scratching perfect columns of Japanese figures in his ledgers in a distant hum of gunmetal grey. Occasionally he would break his writing to dip the pen into the ink pot and tinkling tap of the metal nib on the glass was a bright rippling pale blue. It was like Mori’s own music and Thaniel was lost in it

He was fascinated by Mori’s writing. Those nimble, quick fingers produced perfect, quick pen strokes and a character was revealed like a magician unveiling a trick. Mori’s face also developed faint creases across his brow and in the corners of his eyes as he worked, making him appear less ethereal and more pleasantly real. Thaniel had a glimmer of memory of when he had last seen those eyes wrinkle in that way.

Mori looked up at him suddenly with a slight twitch of a smile as if he knew exactly what Thaniel was remembering. In fact, of course he was remembering. He was remembering very well.

“Distracted, Mr Steepleton?” he murmured, continuing to write his perfect lines of script. There was no point lying.

“Yes, actually, I - err - I was admiring your handwriting.” said Thaniel haltingly. Their eyes met and the other aspects of his imaginings were left unsaid. Thaniel never needed to say those things aloud; Mori would know. Just as well really. These days, hard labour or the asylum beckoned for those actions that provoked those memories. 

“Ah, yes. In Japan, good penmanship is a highly valued skill. Even a bastard son like myself was trained in calligraphy from a very young age. The expectation is a man can wield a brush as well as he can wield a sword.” He lifted his pen and brandished the nib like a tiny dagger. “I confess though, these pens are far easier to write with.”

Thaniel was interested, mainly because the sound of Mori’s voice was it’s customary golden-amber and infinitely more tempting than the soundless notes of a half-finished operetta. He rested his own pen on the desk.

“A brush?” he asked. “Why not a pen?”

“For calligraphy, one must always use a brush. To do anything else would be an insult to the paper and do your words injustice.” he completed another column. “Also, you know characters rely on their own twists, turns and flourishes that fit together in perfect understanding. Good calligraphy is as much like clockwork as art.” 

Mori stopped at that moment, opening one of the work table drawers, after some rummaging and scratching which rippled a burnt sienna orange across Thaniel’s vision, Mori produced an ornate lacquered wood box. He slipped the catch and opened it. Thaniel almost expected a velvet-inlaid box with a single jewel embedded brush similar to those in the windows of Hatton Garden. Instead there were five or six simple wooden brushes rolling gently in the plain box. Despite their simplicity, it was clear they had been cleaned and stored carefully.

“As a boy I would often use calligraphy practice as a means of escaping my brothers and cousins. There's nothing like serious study in front of a tutor to stop beetles and cicadas being thrown at you." He lifted out a brush and examined it.

Thaniel looked interested and nearly pulled back in surprise as Mori reached over the table and stroked the soft brush down his cheek. The brush was soft and silky, leaving a trail of sensation behind him. Thaniel thought of that paintbrush tracing down more than just his cheek, lower and maybe lower and the images of what they could do. He then realised what he was doing, what he was thinking about and how Mori's brush had stopped in mid air.

He had already picked up on Thaniel's mental image and the possible future of it and his eyes were shining with want and hunger. One of the more interesting aspects of their relationship Thaniel had discovered was how much of his own imaginings were immediately visible to Mori as possible futures. Regardless of what that image was. It certainly meant they were never stuck for - creative ideas - in the bedroom.

Mori then proceeded to pretend he hadn't noticed and withdrew the brush, placing it back in its box. 

“I think I would very much like to demonstrate calligraphy to you, Mr Steepleton." He said, raising himself off the stool.

Thaniel stood also and expected Mori to start drawing then and there but Mori gestured to the stairs.

"I believe I can only really demonstrate this to you upstairs." He said. "If you would accompany me, Mr Steepleton?"

As they passed the landing, a quick cursory check on Six in her tiny box bedroom yielded the sight of a small warm lump under the blankets with a faint shock of hair exposed in amongst the swathes of fabric. The only sign that this was actually Six’s room was a clockwork bird on the bedside table Mori had made her and next to it, a sketch Thaniel had made one evening of Mori pouring over cogs in the workshop. It was still a reassuring sight. Inexplicably, Thaniel wanted to watch for longer but Mori’s hand tightened in his as the smaller man insistently led him through the open door of his room and closed it behind him.

“You must excuse my bad manners and lack of authenticity but I will be using bottled ink this evening. If I took the time to prepare my sticks and inkstone, it would indeed take too long.” Mori placed the brush box and ink bottle on the dressing table and wiped down his hands with a linen towel. 

Thaniel looked around askance.

“Why do you keep your calligraphy paper up here?” questioned Thaniel, his voice covered by Mori’s slight hum of a golden laugh. He had obviously expected this question and it seemed to delight him that Thaniel had asked.

“Why Mr Steepleton - I do not keep paper up here. You need a substantial canvas in order to do good calligraphy.” his voice suddenly shifted from it’s usual golden hue into a more greenish-bronze as his nerves and excitement seemed to catch up. “Would you consider being my canvas for the demonstration this evening?”

Thaniel looked so blank for a second, he barely understood Mori’s words but then he recognised the light in Mori’s eyes, the half wrinkle of a smile and he understood. He may not be clairvoyant and able to read futures but he was becoming pretty adept at reading Mori.

"If it is that important to you."

After a thorough check that the curtains were closed without the faintest sliver of light able to get through, Thaniel began removing his clothes in the lamplight. In their early encounters he had been shy about revealing himself, preferring to have the lamps put out and explore purely by touch. However as Mori had begun to leave lamps on more often and employed various tactics to distract Thaniel from removing the light, Thaniel had become less conscious about exposing himself.

Although he was pleased that Mori had already stoked up the fire to fill the room with warmth.

"Enough?" He said, standing tall in his thin cotton drawers trying not to show his nerves and apprehension, which was pointless as Mori already knew, although Thaniel knew he appreciated the effort in his hiding.

Mori faced him in his own undergarments. True to form, even his undergarments were exquisite. The simple vest and drawers were made of silk rather than simple cotton, with stitching that was virtually minute. The silk itself was snowy white and made his golden skin seem darker. He was like a statue that had been draped in cloth. Thaniel wanted to touch him. If he was totally honest, he wanted to sully him. Private moments were hard to come by these days.

Mori obviously read his mind as there was a delicate flush across his cheeks. He crossed the room to rest the brushes and ink on the dressing table removing the stopper from the ink bottle as he did so. He selected a brush and held it out. 

"Mr Steepleton, turn around."

Thaniel obediently turned around, exposing his back. Mori hummed a low bronze and there was a faint blue clink as he dipped the brush.

"Let us see how good your Japanese has become Mr Steepleton." Murmured Mori.

The first stroke was like a kiss of ice on his upper left shoulder blade, followed by a single thick stroke across leaving a cool streak of damp that stroked across his spine. Thaniel could hear his breathing ringing in his ears as two further strokes descended to the middle of his back and other strokes slid around his sides. The touch was so soft and light, he wondered what the brush was made out of.

"Raccoon hair." Said Mori in response, swiping three quick seemingly random strokes that made Thaniel shiver at the ticklish sensation. "Makes for a cleaner stroke. Are you okay with this, Mr Steepleton?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm stood half-naked, in just my drawers in a bedroom being painted on by my closest friend. Totally normal, right?" He restrained a gasp as Mori made a long dramatic sweep back upwards towards his shoulder. Desire pulsed through him as Mori finished with two short flourishes and stood back to admire his work.

“So, can you read what I am writing, Mr Steepleton?” came Mori’s voice. Thaniel fought to remember the order of strokes and the meanings they created.

“I can’t work it out. It doesn’t feel complete.” his legs felt weaker as the brush then appeared again right in the centre of his back with short flickering flourishing strokes that were a series of agonising tickles. “Mori … Keita … please.”

“Patience is the essence of calligraphy, Mr Steepleton.” came Mori’s voice, although it was now that beautiful reddish copper gold that Thaniel now associated with Mori’s own desire; he saw that beautiful colour in his dreams and wished he could paint it. Mori practically radiated the colour behind him as he traced a line of ink horizontally across Thaniel's tingling flesh, moving lower down his back to his waist.

“So tell me, Mr Steepleton. What am I writing?”

Thaniel tried to count the remaining strokes again, trying to keep track of a series of shorter ones followed by an agonising long, slow stroke that caressed diagonally across his lower back. This was then followed by a second - even slower if that were possible - stroke that crossed over it, skimming closely to the bottom of his spine and hips and drifting tantalisingly close to the waistband of his drawers. Thaniel hoped her wouldn't start sweating and ruin Mori's work.

"I can't." He admitted finally. "It's driving me mad just keeping control of myself."

Mori's hands were firm on his shoulders as he guided Thaniel towards the full length dress mirror in the corner, positioning him with his back to it. He handed Thaniel a smaller, pocket mirror and encouraged him to hold it up to look. After some wiggling of the mirror, Thaniel saw the two striking kanji arcing down the pale white flesh of his back.

"Ren'ai." He read in a hushed voice. 

Declarations of love were not their thing. Thaniel thought the emotion and Mori picked up on it and nothing more was said. Both knew. To speak it aloud would also be a danger in itself so neither man had done. Mori himself was not one for public demonstrations of fondness either so this gesture was - quite honestly - astounding.

"Thaniel."

The voice was a caress and their eyes met in the large mirror. Thaniel put down the smaller one. His fingers reached for Mori's and squeezed.

"Thank you."

Mori didn't reply, he simply twirled the brush with his nimble fingers and looked thoughtful before his features settled into a more playful expression. He reached for the ink again and set to work, this time on Thaniel's chest. Faster this time, the strokes started at the top of Thaniel's sternum and quickly followed the vertical positioning of kanji all the down Thaniel's chest and belly, finally completing with four small strokes around his navel and one long one that skimmed the edge of his drawers which - if Thaniel were honest - were now more confining than modest.

Mori stood back and admired the view. Thaniel looked down at the script now tracing down his front. Even upside down he didn't need help translating that particular string of kanji and Mori knew it: his smile was now beatific. Thaniel flushed.

"Shouldn't I wash first? Keep the sheets clean?" Said with the tone of the boy with the penny-pinching childhood.

Mori was coy, his eyes were shining with want and hunger. He came closer to Thaniel. Clever fingers slid into cotton. Thaniel took in a halting breath and lost all words and ideas.

"Absolutely not and this work will be ruined on the sheets either." He gently walked Thaniel back towards the bed. "You are a clever man, Mr Steepleton, like good calligraphy, you will just need to be creative with your positioning."


End file.
